


Soulmates

by GoodandIneffable



Series: Good Omens Fic Week [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel/Demon Relationship, Angsty Crowley (Good Omens), Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Soulmates AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 19:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20476466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodandIneffable/pseuds/GoodandIneffable
Summary: Aziraphale has never really been one to lie. Crowley, on the other hand, has popularized just about every lie in the book.A world in which every lie you tell puts a mark on your soulmate's body.





	Soulmates

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the good omens fic week! 
> 
> Not sure how much I love this but hey, at least it’s here. I’ve never participated in a fic week so I'm pretty excited!! A new one-shot will be up every day of this week (Sept 1 - Sept 7, 2019)
> 
> [For day 1, soulmates au]

Aziraphale has never really been one to lie. There have been three occasions, each making him feel guiltier than the last. Not the misleading another party aspect of it. It’s the bit about permanently scarring your soulmate’s body that he doesn’t much care for. Although, he tends to feel better when he looks down at the hundreds of tallies on his thighs and stomach.

Crowley, on the other hand, has popularized just about every lie in the book, trading the truth for some fun any chance he gets. After his first scar appears in 800 A.D., he never pays much mind to it. What is it worth trying to find something he’s willing to bet wouldn’t last more than 80 years? Nothing, that’s what. But then Armageddon happened.

The words laced with such venom rip through Crowley. “Friends? We’re not friends,” Aziraphale cries. “I don’t even like you!”

Crowley, stunned by the searing pain along the inside of his arm, stares at the angel. “You do,” He finally manages but it’s not quite as aggressive a tone as their argument might entail. It’s a fact that Crowley might be willing to back up would he not be in the middle of possible Apocalypse. It’s not even fair, really, that Crowley gets to see the mark only after Aziraphale does.

“Only two?” The angel asks after mentioning he’d seen them while saving Crowley’s jacket from holy water. They’re in the book shop, drinking Merlot a week after the Almost End. “Just two?”

“Shuddup,” Crowley grunts. “I bet you don’t have any. Not like angels are given soulmates.”

“My dear boy, haven’t you ever wondered where demons got _theirs_ from?” Aziraphale grins as he speaks.

“Right.” Crowley sinks further into the chaise. “How many’ve you got then?”

“I suppose that’s only fair,” He sighs. “To be entirely honest, I’ve lost count.”

_ Oh Lord, please no_, Crowley pleads, his stomach falling. _Please, Someone, no._ Instead, he says: “Lost count? Jesus, they must hate you.”

“Or perhaps they feel they must lie, maybe hiding is easier than telling the truth,” Aziraphale shrugs. “And I have nothing against that.”

“You ever given your mate a scar?” Aziraphale holds his breath at that as if Crowley’s question has stumped him.

“Perhaps.” It’s obvious Aziraphale knows his lies.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Everyone tells a little one every now and then,” He says and takes a healthy sip of wine.

“Lie to me, then, Angel,” Crowley smirks as he slowly pulls his jacket off. Everything he does is strategic, but the rolling up of his sleeves is pure evil.

“I couldn’t!” Aziraphale shakes his head. “No!”

“I’ll lie right back, then we’re even.”

“No!”

“I’ll even go first.” Before Aziraphale can gasp out another refusal, Crowley’s already putting the words together. Of course, it’s not that Crowley wants to give Aziraphale another mark, quite the opposite, but where else is he in possession of such cold hard evidence “I can’t stand this damn bookshop.”

Aziraphale winces, his side firing up in a familiar burn. Then he looks upon the demon with wide eyes.

“Now lie to me, why don’t ya, Angel,” Crowley says quietly.

“Crowley..”

“Tell me another lie.”

Aziraphale swallows hard, and pulls the only lie he knows will not cause damage in the words themselves. “I hate you, my dear..”

Crowley hisses as a thin stretch of skin on his forearm turns pasty white and raised. He stares at it for a good while, feeling the angel’s eyes also trained to that one spot. It burns more from that than the actual formation.

“Crowley..” Aziraphale whispers, drifting up to him to grasp his wrist. His fingers graze the scar, then further up to the other two. “I’m so sorry”

“You lost count?”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about those.” The angel meets Crowley’s eyes. They’re blinded by sadness. “Don’t do that, it’s in you to lie and-”

“Bein’ a demon doesn’t excuse that! Do you know how many times I’ve lied to you- damn it, of course you do! You felt it every time? Every Godforsaken time, Aziraphale? And you never said anything?” Crowley yanks his arm back and paces behind one of the bookshelves.

“I didn’t-”

“Don’t say you didn’t know because you sure as- as- sure as Something did!” He yells. Crowley rips his glasses off and covers his eyes with his palms. “Why didn’t you tell me!”

“Because I still thought Heaven was right!” Aziraphale steps around the shelving unit. “I didn’t understand that… of everyone I thought I could trust before, you’re the only one who's ever given me reason to.”

“Aziraphale-” Crowley can’t get far with his protest because Aziraphale steps right up to him and takes hold of the collar on Crowley’s jacket.

“We don’t have to dance around it anymore,” He smiles.

“Neither of us can dance, Angel,” Crowley says dryly, glancing down at Aziraphale.

“We’ll figure it out together, my love.” Aziraphale says. As he does so, Crowley reaches for the small buttons on Aziraphale’s well-loved yet tattered vest. He sucks in a breath.

“May I?” Crowley asks softly.

“What for?” Aziraphale counters in the same gentle tone. He’s not offended, not embarrassed or afraid.

“I want to know how many I’ve got to make up for.”

“You have nothing to-“

“I need to see- to see the damage I did, Angel.”

“There’ll be plenty of time for that soon enough,” Aziraphale chuckles, leaning up to place his lips to Crowley’s cheek. Crowley closes his eyes for a moment.

“I’m going to fix it, if it’s the only thing I ever do right,” Crowley says, only barely above a whisper.

“My dear, _We are right_.”


End file.
